


Skin That Pulls

by dreamingofsiha



Series: Burning Hearts [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4458257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingofsiha/pseuds/dreamingofsiha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The following morning, the scouts tell him that the Courier and her ghoul companion have left. He supposes he understands – there are numerous reasons he can think of that contributed to her abrupt departure, and they all hurt more than he knows they should. </p><p>“Joshua?” Daniel's voice moves back into the foreground of Joshua's consciousness as he turns his head to face him. </p><p>“I apologise. Continue," Joshua encourages with a lazy wave of his hand. He nods and maintains eye contact with Daniel, but he doesn't really hear him. </p><p>That night, he dreams he's burning all over again.</p><p>Direct sequel to Ties That Bind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin That Pulls

The following morning, the scouts tell him that the Courier and her ghoul companion have left. He supposes he understands – there are numerous reasons he can think of that contributed to her abrupt departure, and they all hurt more than he knows they should.

“Joshua?” Daniel's voice moves back into the foreground of Joshua's consciousness as he turns his head to face him. 

“I apologise. Continue,” Joshua encourages with a lazy wave of his hand. He nods and maintains eye contact with Daniel, but he doesn't really hear him.

That night, he dreams he's burning all over again.

****

It had been almost three weeks since Jane left, and he was once again finding himself wishing that she was there - There'd be a lot less White Legs attacking the camp if she was.

“The frags!” Joshua growls at a nearby cluster of Dead Horses. They shout affirmations as they scatter and lay the mines around various entry points. He glances up to the cliffs above, and catches a blur of movement in the warm dusk lighting.

“Snipers on the cliffs!” he warns over the calamity. Everyone around him scatters and tries to not keep to one spot for too long. He takes cover behind a boulder, and squints up to the same spot where he first sighted the White Legs sniper. A head slowly emerges, and he almost can't believe his eyes. It's the ghoul. He allows his lips to pull into as big a grin as he can manage beneath his bandages, and runs back into the chaos.

Despite the frag mines, a few White Legs make it through. He fights alongside the tribals; alternating between using his gun and his body (which he knows he will pay for dearly later) as weapons. A few times, the rival tribals fall from shots to the head before he even gets to them. He doesn't bother to look up; he knows that it can only be one of two people, and he doesn't need the distraction of the thought of the female one, of whom he has a sneaking suspicion that she might be a guardian angel in disguise.

****

She practically struts into the camp; rifle slung over her shoulder as she hops over the bodies of the White Legs. She almost trips on one, and glances down on it in disgust. The moment that the Dark Horses notice she has returned, they flock to her. She drops her pack and laughs as she pulls Follows Chalk into a hug. There's excited tittering around her, and he watches as she wipes the back of her hand across her brows and does her best to reply to their inquiries in their language. The ghoul is not beside her, but Joshua is sure that he isn't far behind.

“Just in time, Courier,” he says, and the small crowd milling around her parts slightly to let him through. She grins at him with a ridiculously white smile.

“Joshua," she greets as she re-adjusts her rifle on her shoulder. The crowd scatters and breaks off into their own small groups as they return to attending to the littered bodies and damage around the camp. They're standing alone with each other, and suddenly he isn't sure what to say. She sticks out her hand.

“It's good to see you,” she says earnestly. He takes her hand, and shakes it as firmly as he can manage. His palms feel sweaty and itchy beneath the bandages.

“It is good to see you, too. We did not think you would be returning.” He keeps his tone neutral – he doesn't want her to think he's guilt tripping her. She is free to do as she pleases so long as she doesn't harm anyone in the camp, after all.

Despite his genuine attempt at reassurance, she still looks guilty. Her eyes flit away from his and to the ground for a second.

“Yeah, sorry about that. There was a thing that I had to deal with at-” He raises his hand to silence her.

“There is no need to apologise. I'm thankful that you returned when you did; we'd have a lot more dead if you didn't.” He tilts his head to his left, where eleven bodies lay ready for cremation later that evening. The twenty one bodies of White Legs have already been removed and taken to the canyon for the yaoi guai to gorge on. A silence lingers between them for a few moments before she brings her gaze back up to meet his. She takes a tentative step forward.

“Please, take the apology. I don't want you to think that I was avoiding you after that... night.” They stare at each other for a moment, and he can see her fingers plucking at the hem of her shirt in his peripheral vision while she waits for him to speak.

“I see,” he says eventually. This is a situation that he hasn't needed to navigate for a very long time, and for once, he feels lost. Her sun kissed cheeks redden further.

“I-”

“Jane! Can you give me a hand for a second? _Dios_ , this thing weighs a tonne. Should've brought a brahmin down here too,” the ghoul rasps from behind her. She turns quickly, and scrambles towards him to help him with a large wooden crate.

“Don't get it wet!” She scolds as Raul almost drops his side into the water in the sand beside them. The ghoul rolls his eyes, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Can I help?” Joshua asks, despite the fact that his hands feel like they're on fire. She looks over her shoulder at him as they begin to wade through the water and make their way towards the cave that he calls home.

“No, but when you're free, I've got something to show you.”

****

Almost four hours later, he finally gets to retire to his cave. It's close to midnight, and the entire camp (except for the lookouts stationed around the camp) have retired to their places of rest after the trying day. He is about to radio one of the tribe's messengers when she wanders in; barefoot and wearing the smallest pair of shorts and tightest tank top he's ever seen. Her tattoo is healed now; there is no red raised skin or peeling blisters, only tanned, beautiful (and occasionally scarred) skin surrounding it. The hairs on her legs are fine and blonde, and he wants more than anything to feel them beneath his fingertips. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and wavy strands fall to frame her face. When she sees him in his usual position, she grins.

“Hey. Is now a good time?” she asks cheerfully as she gestures toward the still unopened crate with one hand.

“Jane. Please,” Joshua confirms as he meets her at the crate. She gives him a self satisfied (but not smug – never smug) smile as she pulls off the lid. He peers into the crate, and frowns. A few moments pass before she clears her throat.

“They're, they're uh, new and sterilised bandages,” she offers at his narrowed eyes. He looks up at her then.

“Where did you find these?” he asks in genuine curiosity.

“Well, they come from a couple of different places. One being my v- _a_ vault. The other being the New Vegas Medical Clinic,” she explains excitedly. Ah – there's one mystery about her solved. _My_ vault. It explains her perfectly straight and white teeth, if anything.

“You paid for most of these?” Joshua can't believe it. He knows what the price of sterile medical supplies is, and it's anything but cheap.

“Yes?” Her answer sounds like more of a question, like she's not sure if he's asked her a trick question.

“Please, let me repay you," he says as he attempts to turn to make his way over to his safe. He is stopped by a hand on his forearm; not grabbing his bandages, but only pressing against him hard enough so that he knows that the contact is there.

“I don't want any caps from you. It's a gift for the hospitality the tribe has shown me," Jane explains.

“Have you brought any gifts for them?” he asks gently; he doesn't want to offend her. She smirks.

“Yeah," she says slyly, and the way her eyes are sparkling with mirth he's almost too afraid to ask what the gifts were. He hopes its not alcohol - God, anything but alcohol - the last time one of the scouts brought some back from a scouting mission, no less than five tribesmen had drunk themselves poisoned.

He asks anyway.

“You'll see," she says with a sharp grin. Literally sharp; her canines are filed to points. It's a detail he's never noticed before; he was always too busy trying to look elsewhere.

“That's rather ominous,” he says, and she throws back her head and laughs.

“It's all in good fun, Mister Graham,” she says with a wink, and he can't help but smile despite the sinking feeling that someone is going to be very sick in the morning.

“Anyway, I thought these would be perfect for you because Follows-Chalk was telling me how you've only got a few sets and you have to wash and sterilise them all the time, and I thought that new ones would be more convenient, you know, so you can-” she cuts herself off, realises she's babbling unnecessarily. She looks at the ground, then back up at him. He can see there's still that Vault dweller innocence in her eyes, even though she's gotten rough around the edges. You can take the girl out of the Vault, but you can never take the Vault out of the girl, he supposes.

“It's a very thoughtful gift, thank you," he says. He appreciates it, God, he appreciates it _so_ much. He loses too many hours in a day to his bandage routine. She beams at him.

“You're welcome!”

He takes her smaller hand in his, and her eyes widen as she looks at where their bodies touch.

“Thank you," he repeats again, and he hopes that his voice is enough to convey the conviction in his words. She nods quickly, and he notices the flush on her cheeks has deepened. He lets go of her hand, and she lets it linger in the air for a second before dropping it back to her side, then shoving it into the shallow side pocket of her jean shorts.

“May I ask how long you're staying this time?” he questions gently. She clears her throat again.

“I've decided to help you take out the White Legs. Raul and I will stay until that's done. I sorted out my affairs back in New Vegas, so I shouldn't need to leave before then, unless-” her brow furrows, “- Arcade. But he's assured me he will be on his best behaviour,” she says as she strolls over to sit on the rocky ledge that his desk rests on. She leans back on her palms and watches him. She has mentioned three friends to him now, and he is sure she has plenty more back at wherever it is she calls home. She could even have lovers, but he does not dare ask.

“Are you sure?” he asks instead. She nods.

“Sure as shi- uh, really sure,” she corrects herself mid sentence and gives him a lopsided grin. He doesn't particularly mind swearing; it doesn't jar or offend him so long as the intention wasn't to do that. He leaves the crate to walk over to her and stand at her feet.

“You don't need to watch your mouth around me, it does not offend me when you speak.” In fact, nothing about her offends him and it makes him ache with want deep in his chest and other places that, for the most part, he tries to forget exist.

“I'd like to watch _your mouth_ ,” She purrs; all of her nervousness gone in one suggestive sentence. She looks up at him through lidded eyes and gently runs her bare toes up the side of his calf. Gentle again. So gentle, even with her strong, toned legs. She's significantly smaller than him, but he has no doubt that she could snap him in half if she so wished. He doesn't know what she was like back in the Vault, but the wasteland had turned her muscles to steel.

“You don't know what you're asking," Joshua says quietly. Her foot continues stroking him.

“I think I do,” she retorts. He shakes his head. When he focuses back on her, she's standing in front of him, only a small step forward away from touching.

“What is it we're doing here?” he asks. She smirks, and he knows her first thoughts go to something dirty, something she'd say around her friends but not to him. She ends up biting her lip and shrugging.

“You tell me.” The Courier puts the ball in his court, like he knows what the hell he's doing. He feels like a virgin all over again.

“I am not a pretty sight," he admits, both to her and himself. He has spent years trying to look upon his changed body with indifference; it's easier to try not to think about it than acknowledge his scars.

She raises a brow slightly and studies him.

“What do you think it is that I'm imagining under there? Rainbows and butterflies? I'm not under any illusions about what's underneath your bandages. I still want to see. I want to see you, and, if I can, I want to touch you, too,” she says casually, as if she hasn't just completely thrown him for a six. _Ha_.

He's speechless, and doesn't realise he's left her waiting until she moves forward and gently presses the front of her body against him as she places her hands on his hips. She tilts her head up to speak as close to his ear as she can get.

“Don't you get hot under all of those bandages?” her voice is low as she speaks. Yeah, he does. He gets as hot as the ninth circle of Hell, which is probably where he should've gone all those years ago when Caesar set him alight. He should've moved somewhere colder, but the canyon (and more specifically his cave) is the only place he's even felt some semblance of comfort.

“Yes," he admits, the word coming out as a breathy sigh. He can see her smile out of the corner of his eye as she rocks back onto the heels of her feet.

“Then take them off," she whispers, and those words mixed with the heat between them gets him hard, harder than he's ever been, harder than he was those weeks ago when she sat before him and spread her beautiful legs for him.

“You don't know anything about me. I've done terrible things," he cringes at his own words; they sound like a line from those awful pre-war porno mags that Caesar used to confiscate from his soldiers.

She huffs, but doesn't step back, only somehow increases the intensity of her gaze.

“And you don't know anything about me or the terrible things I've done. It's perfect," Jane counters.

“Perfect for a fling, yes," Joshua agrees. She frowns.

“That wasn't what I meant. I'm not here for a fling.” She takes a small step backwards, like he's offended her but she's not quite ready to throw in the towel yet.

“Then what are you here for?” he's confused now, doesn't know what exactly it is she wants or needs, but he's almost certain he's not going to be able to give it to her. He'd been able to remove his burnt foreskin himself, but he'd left an ugly and jagged scar and the skin of his shaft was still extremely sensitive from the blister scars (he was glad that he was wearing a metal piece when Caesar tried to murder him – a sensitive cock was better than no cock at all), and he'd only relieved himself a few times over the years since. If she wanted penetrative sex, he wasn't sure how much of an involved party he could be.

Jane sighs and walks back to the rocky ledge, where she sat back in the same position as earlier.

“Tell me you don't want me too, and I'll leave. I mean, I won't leave the canyon, but I'll leave the cave, and we can go back to a strictly professional relationship. I'll help you take down Salt-Upon-Wounds, and then I'll be gone.”

He stands in silence for a few moments, and she waits patiently for his response. He can see in her eyes that she knows he wants her, that she knows he's going to tell her not to leave. He hates that he's become so predictable, and if he didn't enjoy her company so much, he'd have her monitored for any potential double crossing. He won't, though.

It was time to jump off the metaphorical cliff.

“There are things that I may not be able to do with you, or... to you.” Her eyes light up in excitement despite his revelation.

“We don't have to do anything tonight, Joshua. Like I told you, I want to see you. Let me help you with your bandages, or something. Anything. I just want-” she stands and walks back over to him, then fingers the hem of his vest with her fingers.

He nods hesitantly. He could count on three fingers the people who had seen him without bandages, and they had all looked at him like he was to be pitied. He hated that. The time for pity was long gone; he'd become the man that he had made himself. He'd gotten what he deserved. His skin was his punishment.

“May I?” Jane asks as she brings a hand up to the zipper of his vest. He nods again, and she slowly pulls the zip down. His head spins as his blood continues to pool below his waist. She stops, and meets his eyes.

“Tell me to stop, if you need to. I'll stop," she reassures him.

“Continue," he tries to say as evenly as possible, but the realisation that the beautiful woman in front of him is undressing him and full of want for him is leaving him in shock.

The vest is first to go, then his shirt, then his gloves. Her fingers fumble with his belt buckle, and she lets out a growl of frustration when her small fingers cannot pry the bulky clasp open. He places his hands over hers, and guides her through it. She gives him a quick smile of appreciation, then drops to his feet. He is left to hold his pants up, now that the belt is not there for support. She glances up at him after she has undone and removed his first boot, and flashes him a smile. She rises when she is done with the second boot, then removes his pants. He feels like one of those Egyptian mummies from the old world horror films. He is the monster, and she is the queen. Still, the darkness in her eyes does not dissipate even as she evaluates his bandaged body.

“Go sit on the bed, I'll bring some bandages over," she orders, and he does as she asks. He waits while she pulls a few packets of the sterile bandages out, as well as two strangely shaped bottles. Her brow is furrowed when she returns to him.

“Sit, I'll do your arms first.” Jane commands, and he complies once again. She kneels in front of him, and he is painfully (in more ways than one) aware of the obvious bulge in the bandages between his legs. She squirts something from the first bottle into her hands, and her nose crinkles at what he assumes is the smell of it.

“What is that?” Joshua asks as she rubs it into her hands and up her forearms.

“Disinfectant, so I don't give you any germs,” she explains. He nods, and wonders how long she's been waiting to do this, as she's clearly allowed herself to give it more thought than he has allowed himself.

When she's finished, she takes his hand in hers and removes the clasp holding the bandages together from his palm. He feels the bandages move immediately, and he inhales sharply. She stills and looks up at him.

“It's ok," he manages. She continues; slowly unwinding the bandages from his hand, then his forearm, his upper arm, and then his shoulder. He doesn't want to watch her watching him, so he closes his eyes. Jane moves to the other arm, and strips him just as slowly. His chest is next, then his neck. Joshua's gut twists when she tugs at the clasp on the side of his face. His skin tingles and stings like it always does when it comes into contact with the air. His eyes remain shut.

When she has fully unwound him everywhere, he hears her take a step back.

“Joshua?” she says eventually. He slowly opens his eyes to see that she's smiling at him.

“I understand if you want to sto-”

“No. I don't want to stop. Unless this is too much, and _you_ want to stop.” She keeps giving him outs, but he's too far gone to take them. In a movement so quick he'd miss it if his eyes weren't trained as well as they are, her eyes flit down to his crotch, then back up again.

“I really don't want to stop," she purrs, and all he can do is nod dumbly. He can't ever remember being reduced to a quivering heap at the hands of a woman, yet none of them had quite the same effect on him as The Courier.

Jane kneels before him again, and unravels the bandages that cover his feet, shins, and thighs. She stands up and steps back.

“You're gonna need to stand for the last part,” she whispers, and Joshua slowly rises. The soles of his feet ache against the ground, and he winces. She sees his reaction, and quickly finds the clasp on the side of his hips and unravels the last set of bandages. His cock literally springs free, and he catches a glimpse of a grin on the corners of her lips before she's back to neutral again.

“Sit," she says, and he slowly lowers himself back down onto his mattress. That, too, is washed and sterilised often, but he doesn't want to tell her for fear she'll leave and come back with an entire caravan of new mattresses.

“You're handsome," she says, and he looks up at her in disbelief. He only has to look at her for a second to see that she means it.

“I... don't even have eyebrows.” He's before her, completely naked and scarred, and all he can think of is to mention his lack of eyebrows. She laughs.

“So I noticed. Still handsome," Jane says as she gives a one shoulder shrug as she moves to stand between his slightly spread legs. This new situation and the feelings that come with it distract him from the pain.

“Can I?” she bends her knees slightly, and it takes him a second to realise what she wants to do.

“Yes." He agrees because he knows she will be gentle. He puts his palms onto the mattress behind him, and leans back as she straddles him. Her skin hardly brushes against him as she climbs on, and she hovers over his thighs with only her own strong thighs holding her up. She has a brief moment of awkward fidgeting while she tries to decide where to put her hands, and ends up resting them on her own thighs. His hard cock is between them, and when he looks down, he can see a small, glistening bead of pre cum leaking out. She follows his gaze, and smirks at the sight between them.

“Lean back," she says, and he does so, ever so slowly. She follows him down, and plants her hands on either side of his shoulders. Jane leans down towards him, closer and closer until her lips are gently pressed against the chapped remnants of what were once his own lips. The pressure against them is slightly uncomfortable, but far from unpleasant. She goes to pull away, but he slides a hand up her back and pulls her back down. He's come all this way with her, and he's not going to just lay there like a corpse. He wants to give back; he wants to please.

She moans into his mouth as he they kiss; slowly and gently, but with so much passion he's surprised that he's contributing to it. His hard cock is pressed against the soft, worn denim of her shorts, and he can't stop a ragged groan from escaping, which sounds completely foreign to his ears. When she eventually pulls away, she's flushed and panting.

“Fuck," she says as she tucks some stray strands of hair behind her ear.

“Was that... adequate?” he asks. She nods quickly.

“Yeah. _Really_ adequate,” she sighs as she places her index finger against the hollow of his throat. Slowly, she slides it down his chest. She's so gentle he's sure she's only hovering her finger over his skin.

“Please don't take offence to this, but it's not as bad as I imagined it to be," she tells him quietly as she trails her finger back up to his throat. He is silent; frozen with the sudden fear that maybe this is all a dream and if he speaks, he'll wake up. If it was a trick, it was the cruellest one that God had played on him yet. She frowns down at him, worried that she's caused offence.

“Well, that's a relief.” She smiles, and she looks so good above him he doesn't know where to put his hands.

“Tell me what you want - tell me what I can do for you," she questions as she leans back and looks down at him. What _does_ he want? There were many things he used to enjoy in an intimate setting (and on the rare occasion in the not so intimate settings), but now his brain is giving him nothing. The last time he touched a woman feels three lifetimes past.

“Take... take off your shirt," Joshua stammers. She grins and pulls the small article of clothing over her head and flings it to the side. He's seen her breasts before, but not in this context. They're perfect – all bronzed like the rest of her, and the thought of how often she must not wear a shirt in the sun is too much to take.

“Do you want to touch them?” He nods as best as he can in his position, and she guides his hands to them. He's worried that she'll think the jagged textures of his skin feel disgusting against her, but when he cups a breast in each hand and brushes his thumbs over her nipples, she tilts her head back and moans. He palms her breasts until his hands can't take the pressure any more, then drops his hands to rest at her waist. The way the pain is searing through his skin means he can't ignore it any longer, no matter what is in front of him to distract him.

“Is this too much?” Jane asks. More strands of hair have fallen from her bun, and he can see the flush in her cheeks and neck even in the warm glow of the torches that surround them. Joshua nods slowly - reluctantly. She quickly climbs off of him and lays on her side beside him. She props her head up with her hand and looks at him. Even though he is naked, he doesn't feel naked. His skin doesn't feel like skin; it feels like armour.

“I apologise," he tells her. She gives him a reassuring smile, but she's still flushed and breathing heavily and he knows he's left her without any satisfaction or release. He can handle not getting any release of his own, but leaving a woman – leaving her – without hers pains him.

“You don't need to be sorry. I knew what you were about before we started," she says casually as she rolls over to reach towards the pillow where the bottles from earlier have rolled to. She rolls back, then sits cross legged at his side.

“This is the stuff that Usanagi gave Cass to treat her burn scars. She said it might help strengthen your skin and make it not so painful to touch," she explains as she squirts a generous amount of the creamy green lotion into her palm. Joshua turns his head and gives her a look of uncertainty. Flashbacks of the pain from the other attempts at healing his scars jar him.

“It doesn't hurt. Well, apparently it might a little bit, but it's nothing excruciating," she reassures him (somewhat ineffectively) when she deciphers the look of apprehension in his eyes.

“Alright," Joshua agrees. Jane drops the bottle between her legs, then rubs the lotion between her palms.

“It's antiseptic and antibacterial, too, so you can apply it without glove," she informs him as she rocks forward onto her knees and leans over his torso. She glances at his still hard cock, and he squeezes his eyes shut in the hopes that if he will ignore it, it will go away.

“Ready?” Jane asks, and he hums a yes as he readies himself for the inevitable oncoming pain, despite her assurance that there won't be any. There always is.

He's not expecting her to start at his cock, and he jerks when he feels her fingers curl around him.

“Jane!” he shouts louder than he intends to, and she falls back onto the mattress on her ass in surprise. When he looks at her, she's holding her lotion covered hands in the air in an attempt to not smother it all over his bed.

“I'm so sorry! That hurt, didn't it? I was hoping that it wouldn't, Usanagi said that the lotion is sooth-”

“It didn't _hurt_ ," Joshua interrupts. Now, any stiffness he had willed himself to lose is back ten fold. A smirk flashes across her face.

“Oh. _Oh_ ," she says. She ends up grinning at him, and he groans.

“I can... I can uh, start on a different part of your body if you like," Jane suggests as she moves onto her knees by his side again. He looks at her through hazy blue eyes. He doesn't want her to start somewhere else.

“I... would prefer that you start where you originally intended," he states. He feels bold; too bold for someone who looks like him and is being touched by someone like her. She grins, and without any more words, she slowly slides her hand back around him. The lotion is pleasantly warm, and he sighs when she moves her hand over the knotted and scarred flesh towards the base of his cock. He's not used to another's hands there, but it definitely doesn't hurt. The pressure is a little strange, but not enough to ask her to stop.

“Were you uncut before...?” she asks.

“Yes," Joshua answers. She brings another hand to sit on top of the one that's gripping him at the base, then stills.

“Is there a problem?” he questions when she doesn't move for a few moments; his voice smaller and quieter than he can ever remember it being before. He opens eyes that he didn't realise he was closing and tilts his head to make eye contact with her. She shakes her head.

“No problem at all," she purrs as she slowly starts to slide her hands up and down his shaft. She keeps eye contact as she does so, and he's determined to maintain it.

Any hopes of that are thrown into the canyon when she removes one hand from him and slides it down to gently cup his balls. The pressure is too much; he can already feel that he's about to finish. He's not surprised at how quickly he's ready to come; it has been years, after all, but he is surprised about just how much the pleasure is triumphing over the pain. He's not sure if it's the cream or her gentle hands or just that he was more desperate for touch than he thought, but she doesn't seem to mind - the corners of her mouth are turned up in a smirk as she watches him pant and sigh below her touch.

“Do you want to come?” she asks as her grip tightens around him ever so slightly.

“Yes.” He speaks on the exhale; his body tightening and the heat in his abdomen spreading out as she strokes him to completion.

“Then do it," she orders with dark eyes, and it only takes a few more jerks of her hand for him to spurt his hot seed all over her hand and himself. He squeezes his eyes shut and sees stars as muscles in his body he forgot he had clench and release. When it's over, she continues jerking him lazy for a little while longer until she can feel his entire body relax into the mattress below. He opens his eyes slowly to see her giving him a self satisfied smile.

“That was _hot_ ," she says with a small laugh. He's still too far in the afterglow to speak, so he nods.

“Let me clean you up.” She looks around the room, then spots her shirt hanging off the edge of the bed. She grabs it, then gently wipes over his stomach and thighs. When she's done, she wipes her own hands on the shirt, then stuffs it into the back pocket of her shorts. He looks at her bare chest with concern.

“Don't you need that?”

“Nope. It's late, everyone's asleep. Raul and I've got a tent not far from here, anyway," Jane answers, and he can't help the twinge of jealousy he feels at the thought of her going back to the tent topless. He shoves it aside; half the camp have seen her topless. He's seen her topless. He doubts that she's done to him to anyone else in the camp, however. Joshua supposes it wouldn't matter if she had – she's a free woman, after all. A hand job doesn't mean he owns her.

“Can I finish with the cream?” she asks as she reaches for the bottle again. He reaches a hand out to grip her waist, and she twists back to give him a questioning glance.

“Is there... is there something I may do for you?” He's never let a woman go away unsatisfied, and he's not about to start now. He might not be able to fuck her with his cock or ungloved fingers, but his tongue still works. The thought of his tongue sliding over her folds makes him ache to taste her.

“No. You just lay back and relax," she says with a wink as she squirts a generous heaping of cream into her palm.

“Are you-”

“ _Yes_ , I'm sure. You can make it up to me another time, yeah?” she interrupts as she gets to work smoothing the cream over his right thigh.

 _Another time?_ He ponders that as her hands glide over him. It doesn't take long for the cream to dull the pain and for him to drift off to a deep, dreamless sleep.


End file.
